


Tradition... Tradition

by imperiality (orphan_account)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Shiro (Voltron)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13136871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/imperiality
Summary: It's bright! It's loud! It's festive! It's everything Shiro hasn't really had for Christmas, and it's wonderful. Then the night winds down. And it's down to 3. They talk about traditions.Some are lonelier than others.





	Tradition... Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> My VLD secret santa fic for [ confused-scream](http://confused-scream.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. (Or, if I may call you Heather? c: )
> 
> I'm so so glad you appreciate gen-fics; they are my greatest strength in life. Thank you so much for making me push out of my comfort-zone a bit! I haven't written from Shiro's POV yet, so that was really interesting for me.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and merry Christmas!

Shiro counts himself blessed in not many ways. (Which makes the times when he counts them, all the more beautiful.) He counts his Voltron team a blessing. He counts the privilege of piloting Black a blessing. He counts the lack of a **_common enemy_** _as means to unite the paladins_ a blessing. 

Instead of Princess Allura, Prince Lotor, _the Castle itself_ , the defenders may shift their energies from _enemy_ and defeat.

Now, they can celebrate. 

As Christmas dawns ever closer, the paladins band together to ring in every winter festivity. Everyone throws all of their focus to present-wrapping, wreath-hanging and tree decorating for weeks.

“You guys, remember,” Shiro cautions. “The war waits for no one. I know you all are getting excited about Christmas, which is great. This is the kind of enthusiasm we’ve needed for a while, but-“

“Oh, shut up Shiro.” Lance cut in. He barely even pauses, much less looks up from his decorative busy-work. “You say the war can’t wait? Well, I know the whole universe doesn’t celebrate Christmas, but. It’s a lie. That war _can_ wait, Shiro. I’m sorry, but it can.”

And Shiro is stunned. Shiro is gobsmacked. Above all, Shiro will… absolutely concede; they _can_ wait. They’ve been going so hard for so long. He just wants to slow down. 

They have the time. They can breathe. He can let them have this break, if only for his own sake.

“Oh, oh dude! I did not mean, oh my God, I didn’t mean to- to a _commanding officer-“_

“No Lance.” Shiro holds up a hand. “It’s okay. You’re right. I apologize. Please continue.”

He slinks away, leaving them to do their (curiously loud) festivities. He thinks maybe he's been breathing too much of the same air as Allura. As the Galra. He needs to get out of the space of his own head.

So slowly but surely, he lets himself dive headfirst into setting up the castle with his fellow teammates. At first his smiles are still a bit thin, still a bit stiff when he hands out wreaths to hang. It gets wider when he dangles ornaments on the tree. His laugh is full and obnoxious when their fake-snow fight ensues. 

He beams as he wraps presents in the privacy in his own room. Rapture in thinking of someone has never been sweeter. Especially when he’s got 7 other other people now to think of. Shop for. _Smile about_.

Finally, control feels tangible to his hands. It is by his own hands that he picked their personalized wrapping or bags. It is his hands that chose his friends’ gifts. It will be his hands that will give them out Christmas morning.

It’s been so long since his hands have been able to give something so kind. Maybe even gentle? It’s been so long since he’s been able to produce something so beautiful.

And even then, the time has not yet come. Everyone’s smiles Christmas morning will be the most beautiful production of all.

He can’t give Lance a sunset. He can’t give Pidge more tech. Hunk more peace. Allura more home. Keith more belonging; but he can damn well try.

Shiro’s team gives him a new reason to try. Not entirely a new reason to live or to be, but a new reason he can smile when he wakes up in the morning.

 

The first week of December passes.

“Mamá used to put up an advent calendar for us every year, but my sisters would always eat the candy before I could.” Lance reminisces. “So that’s why I’m not even going to think about trying to make one for you heathens. All of you would eat the candy before I could even wake up and that is just _no bueno_. No thanks.”

“Aw buddy.” Hunk thumps his shoulder. “It’s okay you're a sore loser. But I bet one of us would have taken pity on you. Probably. Sooner or later.”

Pidge snorts. “You really sold that one, Hunk."

“I know, right.”

Shiro may not think it’s in good sport to call Lance a sore loser to his face, but his friend’s grins and Lance’s pout is pretty cute. He’s liking more and more joining in on their hangouts. He’s regretting more and more putting them off in the first place.

What other laughter has he missed on account of his own obstinance? 

The second week of December passes and Lance is obstinate in his demands to Allura.

“We have to go back to the space mall! It’s important!"

“Lance, for the last time, if you don’t tell me what is so important you have to go back for, we’re staying on route for Olkarion!"

“But-“

“Lance!”

A little ways away on the deck, he can hear Keith lean over to Hunk, whispering “he forgot to finish his Christmas shopping, didn’t he.”

To which Hunk leans back over, not even bothering to muffle his voice. “Knowing him, he hasn't even _started_ his Christmas shopping.”

Poor Lance. Guy can never seem to catch a break.

Shiro eavesdrops a little closer.

“What about you, finish your shopping yet, buddy?”

“Huh? Oh, no.” Keith shakes his head. “No, Pidge and I are helping each other make our presents.”

_And Matt didn't join them? That's strange._

“Matt not helping you guys out?” Hunk asks for Shiro.

“Absolutely not.”  
“‘Absolutely not’, ouch. That’s a little harsh, why not?”

“We’re worried he’s going to tell. Which is why you weren’t invited either.” Keith ducks his eyes. “No offense.”

Well that explains that. But you know what, maybe he should check up on what Matt is doing himself. Shiro knocks on his door and waits for a reply. When the only reply is a colorful assortment of “ _ughs_ ” and “ _come_ ** _ooon_** ”’s and emphatic “why”’s, Shiro thinks he can stave off his curiosity for a little while more.

 

The third week in December flies right by them all. Presents one by one litter the base of their tree. Wreathes, lights on bows by the dozen drape on every hangable surface. Shiro is swimming in red and green. He is drowning his Christmas music. 

The music would have to be his only complaint. The swanky jazz Pidge advocates for, Shiro can totally get behind. The overbeaten pop Lance guns for… Shiro kindly declines. Sternly denies. Readily vetos. 

“But Shirooo- it’s Christmas!”

“It’s grating. The jazz stays.”

And that’s a direct order.

After castle-decorating is done, Lance and Pidge and Hunk plan event after event. Ice skating with aliens, paladin portraits in augmented landscapes; no trope gets past them. (Keith’s final straw was the caroling.)

Shiro asks what they’d do with the photos in any case. Lance says it’s for the future paladins’ posterity.

“So the universe can know what a happy family we are! It’s for Christmas.”  
“It’s for fun, Lance. That’s an okay reason, too.” Pidge says.

And sure, Lance pushing them all in tacky, scratchy sweaters might not have been the pinnacle of fun. Posing, smiling under lighting hot enough to melt might not have been considered the maximum enjoyment Shiro’s had in his life, but… seeing his family’s smiling faces next to each other? Seeing them finally communing together, in a brief moment of peace? Shiro thinks that’s more than fun. It’s not merely enjoyment. It’s commemorative. Something that all of them as one can make their footprint on to say “ _we were here_ ”.

Lance hangs their kitschy photos all over the castle. He downloads them to his phone, and shows as many of the Blades as he can while they suffer in silence. Shiro can hardly blame him for his excitement, so in his mind he’ll call it _pride._

Lance lets everyone have a copy of the photo. (He keeps the rest of the shoot for himself.) He puts it in a frame on the dining table for everyone to see. 

When he makes Hunk hang the star on their tree, Keith put out the cookies for Santa, and Pidge write letters to all the reindeer- Shiro can’t help but smile. It’s the paladins making memories and being happy together. 

It’s them ringing in the season.

It’s them taking a _break._

 

Christmas Eve comes. If one could be catatonic with glee, the Golden Trio was it. Their eyes are stunned with elation and traces of multiple all-nighters. Their movements are stiff and heavy. The exhaustion weighing on their muscle and bones can do _no impediment_ to their celebrating, though.

There is noise, there is color. There is cheer, there is laughter. There is the bustle, bustle bustle of the holiday’s upwind and Shiro’s head is almost spinning. 

Until there isn’t. 

The evening comes.

All is silent. 

Hunk brews a huge batch of hot chocolate (or the Alteanequivalent) for them all to share.   Lance and Pidge help prepare the rest of their Big Christmas Meal, while Shiro, Allura and Keith help set the table. Lance says a prayer over them all, and they dig in.

Surprisingly, it is Allura and Coran that dominate the conversation. They ask question after question about Christmas customs, Earth traditions. The Princess’s eyes _cannot_ get any bigger after each celebration the Trio shares. Shiro swears it. And yet, with each story they tell, her eyes only dazzle more and more. Coran himself is nearly vibrating out of his seat.

Coran’s shoujo sparkles is the most animated it gets, though. Shiro sweeps his eyes over his teammates, and all their expressions emanate something like calm. It’s precious. Finally, he can see the fruition of Lance making them all slow down. Finally, he is fully thankful for it.

This, rather than Season’s photos, is something he’d want photographed for posterity’s sake.

They all talk late into the night. So late, their food grows cold. So late, they completely forget the board and card games Keith and Lance had set up. So late that when Lance drags them to their Christmas Movie Night-Cap, all their faces are drowsy and yawning. 

“Come _on_ you guys,” he whines, stretching a wide yawn into his own hand, “we have to stay awake to open presents!"

Which prompts them to excitement for about 5 minutes. Or, for about as long as it takes them to settle on the couches. Whichever comes sooner. The moment their legs hit the ledge, they all slouch in and towards each other in languid comfort. Lance hooks up an old, bootlegged Christmas movie to laugh through. (Instead of laughter, it was something the paladins ended up happily snoring through.) Even through all their sleepiness, Lance’s desperate pulls to alertness, their blatant refusal- Shiro wouldn’t have it any other way.

Surrounded by his new family, embraced with stars and joy so vast and overwhelming; there’s no other place Shiro would rather be.

The movie ends. Lance perks _right_ up after the credits stop. He snaps his eyes to the nearest clock, and comes _this close_ to slapping the rest of the crew awake. _Presents, presents presents!_ he bounds. He jostles everyone's shoulders and pushes them all towards their tree. He slaps a Santa hat over Keith’s head, (where had that come from?) runs to get more cocoa for everyone, and they are all overcome with a second wind.

Shiro is in equal parts impressed and apprehensive.

“Let the present-opening commence.”

Keith tosses out gifts with little embellishment. Lance, after his 7th time trying, gives up in imbuing him with any kind of vocal glamor. The exchange continues.

Surprisingly, most of the gag gifts come from Allura. Strange-smelling soap, tacky clothing and otherwise thinly-functional apparel all come from her hand. She makes no move to defend herself. Lance appreciates his distinctly diaphanous-looking gift perhaps too much. 

“Ooh! This is pretty, Allura.” He holds it up, shifting it above his head in the light. “What uh… what is it?”

With a faint blush and not so faint smirk, Allura says “To wear on the nights when you want to adorn yourself a bit more.”

Shiro has a creeping thought. _Don’t tell me._

“Excuse me?” Lance creaks with reddening cheeks.

Coran absolutely _balks_. “Allura! You- you-“

The princess puts her palms down beside her. “It’s the Altean equivalent of lingerie. Enjoy!”

Keith swiftly diverts. “Oh, hey. This one is another tandem gift from Pidge and I.” He tosses a crisply-wrapped box to Lance. Deliberately he plucks the paper away, the rest of the team on bated breath. _What is it!_ they all burn. Inch by inch, the paladins move bodily closer to see Lance’s grand reveal. 

But Pidge and Keith aren’t subtle in their eye-exchange. Shiro knows whatever Lance is about to unwrap is going to be _good._

Ever so slowly, ever so reverently, Lance raises a single cord from the box. “ _What could-“_ he mutters to himself. Then, as he follows it down, he pulls the real gift from the box. “What. You guys. _What-_ “ to unpack a pair of shining blue headphones. Poor kid is about to fight tears. He beams, “they’re just like Blue!”

“We color-matched them to her.” Pidge explains. “So she could be with you when conversation is too much, but silence is not enough.”

Keith fumbles. “Hope you like ‘em.”

“ _Like them?_ ” Lance blubbers. “I love them!” He gives them sloppy hugs over their necks, sloppy kisses to their cheeks. Overflowing with gratitude, he pushes their gifts towards them in return. 

Shiro is... actually really touched. If Lance wasn’t already, he'd be moved by their presents for him. Those headphones are really unmatched. Until Keith and Pidge leave the final gift for Shiro to unwrap. Pidge gently deposits it in his lap. He flicks his eyes between _it_ , and the two of _them_.

“Do I want to know what this is?”

Pidge's curling grin is all he really needs. “Yes, I think you do.”

He runs his finger under the package tab, expecting- well. Not expecting a whole lot. (Which isn’t fair, considering the last gift that was just opened.) Out of the package he pulls a bundle of paper, wrapped in purple ribbon.

“Did you guys write me a story?”

“Just read the damn papers, Shiro.” Keith points.

So, okay. He’ll read the damn papers. But as he reads, his grin evens out. His eyes widen. His eyebrows draw. “Are these…”

“Blueprints. And schematics for a new prosthetic. We’d need to get your arm measurements to start welding, and the plans still need serious fine-tuning but-“

“Pidge.” Shiro holds the papers with trembling hands. Hardly perusing them, he simply lets her words sink in. _Could it even be possible?_ He doesn’t dare look to his own right hand. Instead, he looks up to Keith’s and Pidge’s hopeful eyes with his own filled with tears. He bows his head. “ _Thank you._ ”

With watery eyes, his teammates crash into his sides all at once. Pidge wraps both her arms around his head, Hunk’s arms constrict his torso. Lance and Keith crowd around his shoulders, while Allura- being the princess she is- lays a hand on his left arm.

 _They are making a difficult task_ impossible _; his composure fraying farther with their sniffling._

But all good things must come to an end. He wishes it didn’t, though. He wishes he still held onto Keith’s and Pidge’s arms and told them how grateful he really is. He wishes he could articulate it in the first place. He wishes he could say just how grateful he is, how much he loves his friends.

He wishes he could share just how blessed this night, their gift, their friendship is. How blessed _he_ is.

Instead, Shiro pats his friends kindly as they all resume their original seats. (He for the life of him can't resume his original equanimity.) He watches as they naturally delve into their own conversations again, laughing with droopy eyes again.

And it’s good.

It’s quiet.

“ _It’s time for bed,_ is what it is.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going,” Pidge waves him off. When he sees her walking back to the hangars with Lance and Hunk, Shiro is glad he wasn’t born yester-quintent. With any luck, their actual bed-time will be at 5 or 6 in the morning.

Allura places a tender kiss on his forehead when she bids him goodnight. “This is perhaps my favorite of your Earth customs. Thank you for letting me participate. Sleep well, Shiro.”

Coran claps a hand to his shoulder, trailing closely behind his charge.

Left murmuring behind him sit Keith and Matt. He knows had Matt been more rested, his enthusiasm would be effervescing over and out his person. As it is, his bubbling smile is communicating clearly enough. Blearily they go back and forth, Matt asking Keith questions: “ _Where did you get the ideas for the tech_?” “ _Did Kat- Pidge start planning first, or did she program around your sketches?”_ Oh, and Shiro’s favorite: “ _where did you learn to_ draw! _”_

Keith answers in order the best he can. “Uh, I had the idea first. When I went to her with it, it was like she couldn’t get her plans out fast enough. We just kind of… went from there.” He rubs his arms. Then shoots his head right up- “Dude! You’ve seen me drawing when we were in the Garrison! What the hell!”

Great. The two of them seem to have caught their _third_ wind of the night. Now seems like a good time as any to join the conversation.

“He was a really good artist, too.” Shiro walks over to the couches. He sits between them, gets himself comfortable, and prepares for the long-haul.

Keith snaps his head over to him, “ _hey_ ,” nudging Shiro’s leg with his foot. “I still am a good artist, screw you.”

“Oh, oh excuse me, Matt. He’s the best artist since the Neo-classics and it’s embarrassing you’ve forgotten. Really.”  

“So sorry Shiro. Keith. How I’ve forgotten the high mastery of art I’ve had the blessed privilege of being graced by. The gravest transgression have I committed. Forgive me, divine Caravaggio.”

“Shut up, Matt.” Keith laughs. When he turns to Shiro, the smile immediately dims. Somberly he asks, “but really. Do you like your gift?” And awaits Shiro’s answer, rubbing his wrists.

Shiro puts his consternation to rest. “I’m impressed by both you and Pidge. You, for its design. She for the obvious and meticulous plans, they’re _beautiful._ I would love to just, be _rid of this thing_ already.” He shakes out his right arm. “To finally get this off, I-“ he inhales. “I know I’ll never be the same again. Not my body, not my head, not the duty on my life. This arm is my greatest strength and my greatest weakness.” He exhales, flexing the fingers and joints of his hand. “If you guys can really make this happen… I couldn’t tell you how much that would mean to me.”

_Keith can only imagine._

They all take a second to breath. It’s comfortable and it’s charged and it’s _brief_. Because while Matt can dwell in the silence, dormancy was not made for him.

“You have to admit, Shiro.” Matt flourishes his new themed scarf and gloves around himself. “Lance knitting these things for me? Obviously the best gift this year. I’m so much closer to being the furry I’ve always wanted to be!”

“ _Matt,_ what the actual _fu_ -“

“Matt, please."

He scoffs. The audacity! Especially considering Shiro’s past. “‘Matt please’, what? You’re just jealous of my wolf-hat, aren’t you. Or are we forgetting your little phase back before the Garrison?”

Keith raises a brow. “What phase is this?”

“No, wait. Not forgetting. Just ‘discerning confessional’, right?” Matt goads.

“Shiro,” Keith snickers. “What phase?”

He just groans.

“You don’t know about this? Oh man, this is great. I’m not surprised you don’t know, but I’m so glad I get to tell the story. _So glad_.” Shiro’s traitorous friend rubs his hands together, ready to _extrapolate_. “Cause you see, Shiro made this whole other _‘sona_ -“

when Shiro smacks a hand over Matt’s mouth. “That’s enough of that. I think Keith can live without that story.” Even with Matt speaking muffled or him trying to lick Shiro’s hand away, he will not relent. “It was a phase. It was a long time ago. It will not be spoken of again.”

“ _Mmmff_.” Matt grumbles. (“ _Damn Shiro, what else have I missed?”_ Keith grouses.)

Only when Shiro thinks it's safe does he take his hand from Matt’s face. As soon as it's lifted he blinks, wipes his face and shakes his hair. He’ll count Shiro's Grief Quota filled for now. He smiles, reminiscing more agreeable times. 

"I feel a bit bad though” he muses, lounging farther in the couch. “Yours and my sister’s gifts were so, so thoughtful. Hunk and his automatic ice-cream maker? Genius. My voice-recorded star map? It is _so cool_ , and I can’t wait to use it. I can’t imagine how much time went into making all your presents. I… I’ve never been good at gift-giving. Ever. That’s why Shiro is my favorite to shop for, he’s so practical. He tells me what he wants, I go get it and we’re all good.” He sighs, wrapping his arms around his tucked-in knees. “To be honest, Garrison Christmases were my favorite.”

Shiro snorts. “Why’s that?”

“They were so much fun!” Matt throws all his limbs out open wide. “You used to prank the Teacher’s Lounge so bad. I bet your Lance would have been proud."

"You're saying 'you' as though you didn't completely instigate the entire thing yourself.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Keith leans forward. “You’re telling me the Chrismahanukkwanzaa mess in the Teachers’ Lounge that, what- three years ago?- was you guys?” He shakes his head, tilting back away. “I would say unbelievable, but. There’s no one else who it would be.”

“Way to keep the faith, Keith.”

He simply shrugs. Shiro shrugs in response; he can’t bring anything form him to even resemble shame. Or regret.

Matt plows on. “The pranks were objectively the best, obviously.”

“I liked when Andrew snuck peppermint bark and latkes in for everyone.” Shiro gets so lost in the memory, he almost licks his chops. “I don’t know how he did it, and I don’t want to know. I’ll let that man have some mystery.”

“Man, you’ve got me wanting that peppermint bark now.”

“You do it to yourself, Matt.”

“Seriously? The most I remember from Garrison Christmas’s is…” Keith strains to recall. “Everyone trying to rope me into caroling.” He looks to the side. “Everyone always wants me to do caroling, what the _actual hell_.”

“It’s those angel pipes of yours, Keith. You should embrace them.”

“Matt, Don’t-“

“I remember Desi bringing his guitar,” Shiro says. “I remember him bringing it, but he would hardly play it himself. I remember everyone being surprised at _where it even came from_ , and how no one knew he could actually play. Or they just, conveniently forgot until the winter season rolled around each year. I remember him playing a couple of songs until he got a crowd. Then he would pass his guitar around. Each person played maybe two or three songs, and most of us would sing along. If we didn’t know the lyrics, we would sit and listen.”

“Oh my gosh, how could I forget Desi. All of us trying to cram at that one table in the mess hall.” Matt smiles.

“All through December it would be nothing but Desi and his communal guitar. Then, for a straight week before Christmas, it was nothing but him and carols. Or hymns. Poor guy didn’t know any Christmas music we did.”

Matt whispers, “how he was able to keep his guitar for as long as he did still amazes me. Guess he was chill with the teachers?”

"You know what, I bet it was one of Desi’s friends that tried to rope me in.” Keith accuses. “I never stayed to hear them play, but whenever I passed by, they sounded pretty good.”

“Hey Shrio,” Matt crawls over to nudge him with his elbow. “Didn’t you ask for the guitar one time? Didn’t you play like, Wonderwall.”

“For the record,” he answers choppily with laughter, “I _did_ ask for the guitar. And that was one time. Also for the record, it was not Wonderwall.”

“It was something like Photograph, wasn’t it.” Keith snarks.

“No. I think it was something like Too Darn Hot because precisely no one knows that song and he’s a heathen.” 

“Thank you again, Keith. Matt.” Shiro nods accordingly. “But it’s true, I don’t know any cords for Christmas songs, so I had to improv. I didn’t hear you complaining though, Matt.”

“Well of course not.”

Amusedly Shiro hums. “I do miss that guitar a lot, though. Desi was so good to share it with everyone. I feel like, for that entire week at the end of December, all the cadets and instructors and officers all finally came together. For the last week in December, we were all a family. For the last week, we were all brought together by one guitar. That feeling is what I miss the most.”

“But we’re your family now, right?” Matt blinks. “I know we’re not the Garrison, thank goodness,” he laughs  “but we’ve got something really good here, too.”

“Oh for sure. I guess I…” Shiro works his tongue in his mouth. He sways his head a little, back and forth before he pours his admission. “Maybe I just miss the guitar!”

“I would have liked to have seen you play,” Keith admits.

“I would like to think I can still play after all these years.” Shiro is apprehensive to even entertain the thought.

“Might be worth a shot,” Keith says. _Might be worth putting on next year’s wishlist_ , he dwells.

“You know, up until I graduated high school, my family always had this tradition.” Matt wraps a blanket over his legs, kicking them over the couch ledge. “It was pretty cool.”

“What, a tradition besides the way you guys decorated your entire house and did actual tree shopping?” Shiro asks.

“Yeah, well. Besides all that!” Matt waves his hands. “Every Christmas Eve, my parents would take Pidge and I out to look at the stars. Every year we did it, even when it was snowing.” He huffs. “ _Especially_ if it was snowing, my dad loved that stuff.”

“Considering how enthused he was about finding those ice samples, I don’t think I have any room to refute that.”

“Would you let that _go already_ , Shiro!”  
Slowly, softly, Keith’s voice descends. “That sounds nice.”

Sweetly and sanguine Matt’s voice carries. “It was. Some years we spent longer outside than others. I think most of those years were before Pidge was born,” he laughs. “Other times we had to go in because I got too cold.” Like the smoke of a candle-flame, his laughter lifts away from him. “I was about to say, ‘I wish I sucked it up and stayed out longer. I wish I stayed out longer to see the stars.’ But I don’t. No. Not to see the stars, at least.” He throws his arms out as wide as they go. “All we have to do is look around, look outside! Stars, stars! There’s nothing but stars! I never had to look up at them now knowing I’m floating _amongst_ them. Hindsight’s 20/20, though. If I were to stay outside longer, it would be to stay by my parent’s side and never let go of their hands.”

Shiro lays a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll see your father again, Matt. If you and Pidge have the same kind of tenacity- _and I know you do_ \- you’ll see your father again. You won’t have to let go.”

“I want faith like you paladins have.” Matt’s smile says a lot, but not enough. “I want us all to be together again.” He wrenches his smile back in, and churns out a saccharine laugh. It hurts to listen to. “Oh man, I didn’t mean to bring it down like that, _wow_. We had other traditions, of course. Watching movies together. We played board games together. All your typical White Family stuff, we weren’t that original.”

“Back on Earth, my family had some traditions.” Shiro offers.

“Yeah, well. You guys are Japanese, I think that’s kind of a given.” 

“Matt. For your sake I’m just going to speak right past that. What my parents and I used to do is light candles. We’d light a tea candle for all the family we wanted there with us at Christmas, then set them out at midnight. We would say a prayer over each person, then blow out the candles when dawn rose.” Shiro’s gaze is distant. Lukewarm. “Of course, it wasn’t until middle school that I was even able to stay up with them.”

Matt inquires, “who did you set candles out for?” 

“Oh…” he considers his recollection. “Aunts, uncles. A lot of cousins. We also lit a candle for family ‘gone too soon’.” His flashbacks take him deeper and deeper. “The house was so quiet. For _hours_ , there was nothing but me, my parents, the candles and silence. I remember,” he snaps his fingers, “we would line the candles in two rows, perpendicular to the deck. My mother said that when we lined them up, their souls could meet and talk with each other once again. When they were done talking before the sun rose, they needed to be guided down the path away from the house. So they wouldn’t get stuck with us.”

Keith is low in his head and his heart when he says, “that’s beautiful, Shiro.”

“It was. The older I got, the more clearly I could see the sorrow on my parents’ faces. We never had a huge family, but they meant a lot to us. Family meant so much to us.” _He can see the candles flickering away, now_. “What I really want for Christmas is for my parents to finally catch a break. I want them to stop missing everyone they love. For them all to be reunited one day.” His stare wanders down to the floor. “I wonder if they’ve started lighting a candle for me.”

“Shiro…”

“Well,” he cuts Keith off. “I don’t have many… _any_ traditions other than that, I think. Yeah we watched Christmas movies sometimes, we had dinner together. Presents were opened Christmas morning, though. Always. Never Christmas Eve. We uh,” he chuckles to himself. “We didn’t want our family getting jealous we didn’t get them anything while their candles were still in the house.”

Matt snuggles closer to himself, silently laughing with Keith. “That’s actually pretty cute.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t until I got into the Garrison that I actually you know, _internalized_ other people did different things for the holidays.”

“Culture shock?” says Matt.

“No. Just realization. I will say, hearing Desi’s different Mass stories only got better every year.”

“My dad and I went to Mass one year,” Keith comments.

Shiro raises an eyebrow. He can already see where this lead. “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

“I think you already kind of know how it went.”

Matt jostles his legs, conspiring. “Was there hissing? Minor exorcisms?” 

“There was Mass,” Keith says darkly. “And there was never again.”

“Well hey Keith,” Matt gently transfers. “Do you have any traditions? _Other than Mass_ , you and your dad do anything fun?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.”

“I mean uh…” Keith contemplates his next answer instead of snapping it out. “Yeah. I didn’t really do any ‘tradition-y’ stuff. He wasn’t that kind of person. He wasn’t really big on present-giving, either. I usually got tools, stuff for the shed y’know. Christmas Eve he’d put on black and white movies aaand,” he huffs. “That was it.”

“Really? That was _it_?” Shiro hadn’t heard of Keith’s past much, even when they were enrolled together, but. That story. That story was just so pitiful.

“Pretty much, yeah. We tried a tree a few times. Kind of. We tried the holiday movies thing, the photos with Santa thing. It’s nothing you would ever call tradition, though. I really didn’t have any. It’s not that big of a deal.” That little last bit said for the sake of Matt’s crestfallen face.

“I can’t imagine the holidays seeming so lonely. My family and I always did something. Every year. You poor thing!”

“Matt, it’s fine. Really. But to be honest, it wasn’t until I met Shiro that I really started to look forward to winter break. Christmas wasn't just... another day anymore. I guess _you_ became my tradition.”

Keith's blasé tone is what baffles Shiro the most. “We didn’t even do anything special.” 

“For years I didn’t have much of anything, Shiro. Winter was always so quiet. Then I met you guys, and I got-“

“Noise?” Matt grins.

“Sure.” Keith ducks his head. “Well, mostly from you. Shiro can actually remember his indoor voice.”

And Matt is _affronted_! “You say that because you didn’t see him in his pranking hay-days.”

“He says it because you’re as bad as Lance,” Shiro crosses his legs, laughing laughing laughing.

Matt holds his palm out and wide over his heart. “Ouch.” He shakes his head. “Ouch, you guys are hurting me. Where did all the love go?”

“You’ve obviously forgotten our time before the Galra,” Shiro drawls far too smugly. “This is how I show I care.”

“ _Shiro_ , my man. You wound me. You wound me deeply.”

“I think-,” Keith begins in a still moment. He waits for Matt and Shiro to catch their breaths. “-That the only thing that would have made Garrison Christmases better, is if I cared less about curfew and snuck out to help you guys prank around.” He looks to Shiro, “and went with you to make fun of Matt.”

“Hey! There are some traditions better left, oh I don't know. Non-existent,” Matt blows his own cover as he smiles all through his words.

  
“I think listening to Desi’s guitar would have made Christmas better.” Keith smile dims. “I think if I had managed to get my head out of my ass for a _single, solitary_ week of the year, Christmas would have been better. I think if I had remembered how fleeting time is, if I had known how much would happen to all of us…” (Sometimes his head is a dangerous place to be alone, but not now. Now, he is in good company.) “Now I’m finally realizing how _big_ the universe is. All these people, in all these galaxies. Somehow with all this extraterrestrial life, I still felt so alone, year after year. How does that even happen?”

“You didn’t know what would happen, though. That’s just it.” Shiro assures.

“I had no perspective. I squandered so much time trying to find myself. I kept trying to rush it and that's not okay. It’s only on this Castleship that I’ve ever felt I’ve really belonged. It’s only with you Shiro, that I’ve felt like family.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He moves to Keith’s couch, laying a hand on his knee. “Your days at the Garrison are long behind you. Your year in that shack is behind you. Your lonely holidays are _behind_ _you_ , Keith. And I think you’ll find that you're not the only one struggling with belonging, here. Even more than that, I think that you know I’m not the only family you have on the castle.” His gaze is as fierce as his conviction. “Am I right?”

“Yeah, but-“

“Keith.” Matt nods. “You and Shiro are as much my brothers as Pidge is my sister. When we’re out so far like this, fighting as hard as we are? We’re literally ride or die, dude.” He exhales. “I don’t think we have much of a choice between being close to each other or not. We’re all we’ve got. We’re it. Now, now don’t think I’m complaining- I wouldn’t _dare_! I’d choose no better band of merry misfits to fight alongside with.”

“It’s nice to hear you’ll be sticking around, Matt.” Shiro gestures with his arm, rolling it out.

“Of course, of course. If I can help it, that is.” Quickly, sharply, Matt’s eyes and voice harden. Then as quickly as they iced over, they melt again to the tumultuous Red Paladin. “It is nice to have a warm place to lay your head, right? It’s nice being able to slow down once in a while. It’s nice being with all you guys, the _Mighty Paladins of Voltron_. I’m so proud of all you,” he beams.

Keith squints a little. Does… is Matt tearing up? 

(Knowing him, probably. Yes.)

“Once we find your father, Matt, we’ll all be back together again. Well. As much as we can be.” Shiro’s jittering hands betray the clarity of his voice.

“I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for saving me that day before the arena. I don’t think-“

“It’s not time for that, anyway.” Shiro claps a hand to his shoulder. “Loneliness is a piss-ass tradition. For a whole year, I forgot Christmas even existed. I never want to feel like that again. I can’t lose my humanity like that again. Now,” he slaps his hands on his knees, “I’m not going to give the Galra the time of day to remember what they took from me. How fitting would it be to actually be thankful for what all of you have given me?”

“A novel idea, Shiro.” Matt commends. (A cheap attempt though it is. His congested diction does nothing by way of obscuring.)

“We’re all here together, and one by one, we can make a family for ourselves. I don't believe people belong to each other, but we hold each other accountable. We’ll keep each other in line. We’re _defenders of the universe,_ dammit! Why can’t we defend each other while we're at it?”

Matt makes truly atrocious kisses faces to Shiro. (It helps to unclench his fists, at least.) “I got your flower baby, now go kick his ass.”

Keith, on the other hand. Keith is a little mystified, and a lot trepidatious. 

Softly, brokenly he says, “We’re family?”

Both Matt and Shiro whip their heads to him. They look to each other a moment, and Matt concedes the reigns to his friend.

“Yes. Yes, we are. At this point, I think we already have been for a long time. And besides,” he ruffles Keith’s hair. “Wasn’t it you that said we’re all connected? That we’re all one by cosmic dust?"

“Oh… right. I did say that."

Matt leans in close to Shiro's side, whispering gruffly “he said that? Really?”

To which Shiro whispers suavely back, “yes. He did."

“Wow. That’s…” he looks moment by moment in a new direction, searching and _digging_ for the right words. “That’s pretty deep.”

“Thanks, Matt.”

“Wait, wait. You know what?” he holds out his hands. “I have an idea. In light of these moving revelations and recent conflictions, I’m going to propose a thing.”

“And what is your revelation-inspired Thing, exactly?” Keith inquires.

“I’m so glad you asked. I propose, that…” Matt halts. He inhales. He lets the charge build. When its foundation is set enough, he shocks it. “We make this our new tradition.”

“You mean, staying up to talk at all hours of the night?” Shiro rubs his tired eyes.

 _Oh great, it's infectious._ Matt feels his exhaustion descending as he yawns, “yeah! But not just this. We should do the whole shebang. The decorating and the sweater-donning and the pastry-making. We should do it. Every year. If we can, of course. Duh. I think it’ll be good for us to make a big deal out of ringing in the season. The new year. The idea of togetherness and community. _Family_ ,” he coos to Keith. “Let Lance take his greeting card photos if he wants. Let Hunk cook those huge, 5 course meals for us. Let Pidge tinker, let Keith be social. Let yourself take it easy.” He looks to Shiro and concludes his pitch. “Let’s keep taking it easy.”

Even with, (or maybe _especially_ with) his sleep-addled eyes and brain, Keith can’t find any fault in Matt’s idea. 

He wants to experience Christmas with his new family, as a family.

 _Could he even think to imagine,_ he wonders. _Looking forward to a season whose weather made him so miserable on Earth?_

But that’s just it, isn’t it. They’re not on Earth anymore. Space is their new home. They have the agency to make all new traditions for themselves.

It’s a blessed feeling, indeed.

So blessed in fact that when the three all bid goodnight to each other, it lulls Shiro right to sleep when his head hits the pillow.

So blessed in fact, his dreams are unburdened. Untaxing. 

He dreams of home, family and peace.

Shiro dreams of tradition.


End file.
